How Do You Feel?
by Kagedtiger
Summary: Follows Spock through Movie 4: The One with the Whales. More K&S than KxS, but has hints of the latter.


How Do You Feel? 

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**Notes: In case you were wondering, Star Trek doesn't belong to me, and I make no profit from my fanfiction. **

**Takes place during the fourth movie (the One with the Whales). Spoilers for the whole thing, plus "Amok Time". I haven't read the novelization yet (although I'd like to), so I apologize for any similarities or inconsistancies. **

**This piece is mostly K&S, but there are hints of K/S in there. I'm hoping it should appeal to both crowds. **  
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They seemed very small, from such a distance.

Logically, Spock knew he could not work non-stop without any breaks. He was not a machine. Even Vulcans needed to rest, if only to give the mind time to assimilate the constant barrage of information.

It was illogical, however, to spend this time watching them. Watching him. Spending this time meditating would allow for better information absorption. But instead he had chosen to watch, even from this distance, his captain and the crew.

'Admiral,' his mind corrected. 'He is an admiral.'

Of course. Admiral. But it did not feel right to call him that. Which was, in itself, illogical. James Kirk's title was admiral. It would be illogical to call him anything else. It was illogical to want to call him anything else.

But then, Vulcans were not supposed to want, were they? It was illogical, irrelevant. His life, his memories, were all hanging about him like shards, fragments of his former self. Piecing them together was a task so enormous that he was not sure even a Vulcan could manage it. But in the midst of it all, like a shining beacon, stood Him.

Somehow it all came back to Kirk. He was the one constant, the center. Spock somehow knew that whatever his life was, whatever it had been, this man was of the utmost importance. It was the only thing that he was entirely certain of. All the facts, the knowledge that he was re-learning, all of that was of course concrete, and comforting. But there were moments when it all seemed to turn to sand, running through his fingers like the hot deserts of his home planet. In those times, when he looked about himself in something akin to panic, an entirely un-Vulcan-like uncertainty, there was only one person who made sense, an anchor that kept everything else real.

'Jim. My captain.'

As though hearing his thoughts, the admiral turned from his conversation with Dr. McCoy and gazed up towards the mountain. Even from this distance, Spock somehow knew that the admiral was watching him. Gazing at him with steady eyes. Probably wondering about him.

Spock had to move quickly to suppress the flutter of emotion that attempted to rise within him. It was time he returned to his testing anyway. It was illogical that the mere knowledge that the admiral was watching him would spark the emotions. The strange, illogical beasts of that he could feel lying dormant inside him. Did all Vulcans have to work so hard to suppress these strange writhing creatures? Or was it merely an effect of his human blood? Dimly he recalled wondering this before. He seemed to have wondered it often.

The testing helped to calm him. The cool rationality of the stream of facts soothed his agitation, comforted his mind and braced it. He slipped through the onrushing flood of questions with ease, like a swimmer, until suddenly-

How do you feel?

Four words. Four words that made so little sense, they might as well have been part of an unknown alien language. Why was a question like this in his test? The words had no meaning. They were illogical, irrelevant. How did he feel? He did not feel. He was a Vulcan. The beasts were tamed. 'How' was not a question that you asked, in this case.

For a brief second, the image of the admiral flashed into his mind, a tiny, distant figure, surrounded by the burning sands of his home, a beacon, even at such a distance, with his back to Spock. And then he turned, and even so far away, feeling his eyes, knowing he was watching, wondering.

'How do I feel?'

* * *

"Permission to come aboard," he requested crisply.

"Permission granted," the admiral responded, with a slightly skeptical look.

"Thank you Admiral."

"Jim," said the Admiral. "Spock, Jim. Don't you remember?"

Something stirred inside him. He crushed it, turning to his logic. "It would not be proper for me to refer to you as Jim while you are on command, Admiral."

There was a look on Jim's face suddenly, a disappointment, that just seemed so very wrong that Spock felt himself groping for a response, a reason. It was a fact, as certain as the planet's gravity, that that expression was not right.

"Also, I must apologize for my attire. I seem to have… misplaced my uniform."

A smile, but not the right kind. This one was sad, still disappointed, and Spock felt strangely lost, which was entirely illogical, because no facts had changed in the last conversation. Nothing was different. Therefore, his current sensations should be no different from his previous ones.

But those cold facts would not make Jim smile.

He was not certain why it was suddenly of the utmost importance that Jim smile.

As he moved to his station, he heard Jim and McCoy discussing him. Most likely they underestimated his Vulcan senses and assumed that he could not hear them. The strange fluttering of unpleasant emotion returned at the reminder of Jim's lack of faith in him, as the admiral failed to reassure McCoy.

They got underway quickly, and the strange familiarity of operating at his station was stirring Spock's consciousness disturbingly, raising the mud and silt from the bottom of his mind and clouding his thoughts. He occupied his mind by going over calculations, not important but taking his concentration.

Dr. McCoy tried to talk to him, but he was not important, not the way that Jim was. And he was rattling Spock's currently fragile calm. McCoy was certainly not a logical man.

Spock snuck a glance back at the admiral. None of these humans were.

* * *

There were a few further moments of troublesome emotions surfacing. Upon Jim's depressed look when he thought they would be unable to return to the future, a sudden need to grope for any plausible solution, if it would make the admiral happy. A slight flutter of emotion at the quickly-suppressed look of amusement when he tied the strip of robe about his head to cover his ears. The look brought up sudden memories of constant, good-natured teasing, knowing how Jim was amused by what he referred to as his first officer's "Vulcan quirks." And yet the emotions associated with this memory of mockery were pleasant, which was quite illogical indeed.

Everywhere they went, there was an almost constant need to please Jim, to make him happy with Spock's actions, his ability. Spock wondered if he would ever be able to explain it.

It was right after they had been kicked out of the aquarium, walking past the members of their former tour group, when a tentative young man with dirty blond hair, a boy really, whom Spock had noticed watching them throughout the tour, stopped them, smiling hesitantly.

"I just wanted to tell you two," he said shyly, his hand on Spock's sleeve, "that I think you two make an adorable couple. It's nice to see. I hope you don't think that's too forward of me."

"Not at all," said the captain with a smile that Spock could tell was forced. He tugged at Spock's arm, dragging him toward the exit. "Thank you. Come on, Spock."

When they were a safe distance from the aquarium, beginning the long walk home, Spock felt safe enough to broach the subject. "Admiral," he began.

"Yes Spock?"

"That young man back there seemed to imply that you and I were a couple of romantic inclination."

"Yes he did, Spock."

Spock paused. Jim's tone seemed guarded. He wondered if they had been lovers in his old life. It would explain many things. "On what does he base this assumption, Admiral?"

Jim shrugged. "We must just look like a couple, I guess. This is San Francisco, after all. Around this time in earth's history, the United States was going through a sexual revolution. This was one of the first places where two men could openly be a couple without facing the prejudice of the masses. As I said before, this was a paranoid time."

Once again Spock paused. He did not know why it should be so difficult to speak to this man. It was not logical to be so hesitant, especially about asking simple questions.

"Were you and I lovers, Admiral?" he asked.

He looked over at the admiral in time to see Jim shake his head in annoyance and turn his glance away. "Jeeze Spock," he muttered, "you can't even call me Jim when you're asking a question like that?" Spock was silent. "What does it matter, anyway, whether we were lovers or not? We were… you called it _t'hy'la,_ Spock. I trust you know what that means."

"It is a Vulcan word," Spock confirmed. "Generally translated as friend, but also meaning brother or lover."

"Exactly," Jim muttered.

For a few more minutes they walked in silence, the gravel of the road-side crunching under their feet, the smell of the ocean in their nostrils. Spock processed this new information dutifully. Jim seemed very distressed by his lack of memory. They had obviously been very close. Perhaps that was the reason that his universe seemed so centered about the human. And yet, it was illogical that he would develop such a bond with a human. Such emotional ties were not Vulcan.

"Once," Jim suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Excuse me Admiral?" Spock questioned, uncertain as to what Jim was referring.

"We slept together once," Jim elaborated. "We didn't generally make a habit of it, but it was after your first _pon farr_, and even though the blood fever was gone, well… it probably wasn't necessary, but it happened. Just the once."

Spock was so surprised he actually stopped walking, turning to Jim in amazement. "I told an outworlder of the _pon farr_?"

Jim heaved a huge sigh, his shoulders slumping as he turned to face Spock. The disappointed expression was back again, making Spock uncomfortable. "Yes Spock," he said. "Don't you remember? We tried to take you back to your planet to meet your girl, T'Pring, but she chose to challenge and you and I had to fight each other. You thought you'd killed me, do you remember?"

A coldness filled Spock's mind then, a memory of burning blood, suddenly extinguished as he held the cold, limp body of his captain by the neck. A penetrating, paralyzing shock and denial filling him, shutting down his logic completely. No. NO.

Spock snapped suddenly back to reality to find Jim searching his face with concern. "Are you alright, Spock?" he asked.

"I believe I remember killing you," he informed the admiral.

Jim smiled and rubbed his neck ruefully. "Yeah, I remember that one pretty vividly too."

They began to walk once again, the silence following them peacefully. Overhead, a seagull cried.

"Spock," Jim began again after a moment. For a moment Spock thought he was going to say something further on the subject of their relationship. But instead he said, "Do you remember those 'colorful metaphors' we were talking about earlier?"

* * *

Jim had returned from his mission. Spock wondered if he was still annoyed that Spock had insisted upon not accompanying them. However, he knew logically that Jim would have a much easier time talking to the woman without the Vulcan accompanying him. And Jim had seemed to understand, so it would be illogical of him to be unhappy for that reason.

But humans were infuriatingly illogical.

He could tell that Jim was annoyed about how the mission was turning out. It was understandable, for an emotional being; their mission was in danger of failing. And Spock said as much.

What he didn't expect was the harsh retort of his captain, "Spock, you're talking about the end of every life on earth. You're half human. Haven't you got any god-damned feelings about that?"

Spock paused, feeling unaccountably hurt. Jim was angry again. Jim should not be angry. Why-

And suddenly, like a man who finally snatches from the air an insect which has been buzzing about his ear for hours, Spock pinpointed the emotion within himself and understood. When Jim was unhappy, Spock was unhappy as well. This made very little sense, but it was nevertheless true. Spock was at a loss as to how to handle this new information, a fact made all the worse by the strange emotions fluttering inside him, feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy.

Suddenly, McCoy was by his side. Spock looked down at the doctor as he grabbed the Vulcan's elbow, a scowl on his face.

"Come on," muttered McCoy. "That expression looks even worse on you than it does on Jim. I'm getting tired of this."

Somewhat surprised, Spock followed McCoy into an empty cargo room, where the doctor pushed him down to sit on a crate and stood in front of him with crossed arms.

"I am _sick_ and _tired_," McCoy began, "of watching you two mope around like this! Jim's depressed because you're not the Spock he remembered, and you're just as depressed for basically the same reason, only you don't get it."

Spock raised an eyebrow at this man who presumed to understand so much. "And what is it that I do not 'get,' Doctor?"

McCoy's scowl deepened and he leaned in, placing his face close to Spock's. "You forget," he said, "I held your mind. Your soul. For a few days, I _was_ you. And I could feel how your soul pulled at his. You two _need_ each other, Spock. Do you know what your mind called him?"

Spock could assume. "_T'hy'la_."

"_Exactly_," said McCoy. "Soulmates, Spock. Your soul needs his and his needs yours. So stop moping around like a kicked puppy and embrace it!"

"How do you suggest I accomplish this, Doctor?" asked Spock, now genuinely interested. McCoy seemed to have unexpectedly pinpointed his dilemma.

"He misses you, Spock," said McCoy, his voice softer now. "He wants his friend back, and I don't blame him. All you have to do is remember what that was like. You used to trust your emotions once. Trust them now."

"That seems… illogical," Spock admitted.

McCoy threw up his hands. "I give up!" he said, shaking his head. "It's like talking to a big, stupid rock." He slouched out of the room in disgust.

But Spock was now thoughtful. For the rest of the day, McCoy's words weighed on his mind. As he helped Scotty to repair the Klingon ship, the back of his consciousness continued to dissect and analyze the doctor's insights, trying and failing to logically account for the ideas.

They did not make sense, but the words seemed to perfectly describe his situation.

Scotty shook his head ruefully as he disconnected from the admiral's communication, and turned to Spock. "My, he's in a wee bit of snit, isn't he?" he said with obvious commiseration.

Spock considered this, and thought of Dr. McCoy's words.

"He is a man of deep feelings," he said.

"Aye," said Scotty, as though this was entirely to be expected. "What else is new?"

* * *

It was when Chekov went missing that he first had the opportunity to test the doctor's theory. The doctor had suggested that they attempt his rescue.

Uncertain, Spock consulted his emotions, and found that he was… concerned about the Russian man. While it seemed illogical to risk the mission, and the fate of the earth, to return for one crewmember, it would not be… right to leave him behind.

"Admiral," he said aloud. "May I suggest that Dr. McCoy is correct. We must help Chekov."

The admiral turned to him, surprised. "Is that the logical thing to do, Spock?" he asked.

"No," Spock admitted, wondering if this had truly been the right decision after all. "But it is the human thing to do."

"Right." And there, suddenly, was the smile he had been waiting for. Small, but real. One of true pleasure and pride. Spock had no way to explain how good he suddenly felt, at the thought that Jim was proud of him. Suddenly it seemed as though everything would be all right. Which was illogical of course, because Chekov was no closer to being saved.

But for an instant, Jim had smiled.

* * *

When McCoy visited him again at his station, Spock found himself far more open to the man's conversation. Most likely this was due to the revelation that McCoy's insights into his relationship with Jim and with his own emotions had been correct.

"You present the appearance of a man with a problem," McCoy said.

Spock confirmed this, and explained his dilemma. He was appalled when McCoy suggested that he guess, but instinct told him that it was the only course. And of course, McCoy had been correct earlier. And then, when he shared the decision to guess with the admiral-

"A guess? You Spock? That's extraordinary!"

Spock was confused. On the one hand, the expression on Jim's face made a pleasant warmth spread through his body. On the other hand, he could not possibly be happy about such a fact. Was it possible he had misunderstood?

He could tell even as he questioned McCoy that the doctor was amused with him. But he assured Spock that Jim understood, that it was his confidence in Spock that made him so happy that he was making a guess.

That felt right.

"Then I will try to make the best guess I can."

* * *

Dr. Jillian had never been so scared, or so exhilarated in her entire life. A spaceship. She hadn't believed it at first. But perhaps what had really convinced her was the reappearance of Jim's strange sidekick, the white-robed man who had dived into her whale tank. Walking the aquarium and the streets he had seemed as out of place as, well, a fish out of water. But suddenly, standing in the metal corridor of the ship, his pointed ears and strange eyebrows uncovered, he looked as natural and comfortable as though he'd been born there. Like he truly belonged.

He had bowed slightly, and said, "Admiral, full power has been restored." The words fell so naturally from his lips, as did the response from Jim's. And then, to her, "Hello Doctor. Welcome aboard." And suddenly he, everything he was, had made sense.

She tried to broach the subject of the strange man as Kirk led her down through the ship to visit the freshly "beamed-up" whales.

"So, your… friend. What is he? Alien? Robot? Superhuman?"

"Close," said Jim with a wink. "He's my first officer and science officer, and he's half alien."

She nodded. At this point, she'd believe almost anything. "So when he jumped into the tank with George and Gracie, he was talking to them? Does he speak whale or something?"

"Vulcans are touch-psychic," said Jim. "He was mind-melding with the whale, touching her mind and connecting it to his own. That ability has come in handy a whole lot on our missions, let me tell you."

"It finally makes sense why you two looked so close, and why he called you Admiral."

Kirk just smiled, a far-away, distant look that spoke of pleasant reminiscence.

"I had thought that it was maybe some kinky sex thing," she continued.

Kirk choked, and nearly stumbled in the hall, but caught himself, his grin returning. "No," he assured her. "But he means a lot to me. He's very important and I need him."

"That much," said the doctor, "is obvious."

* * *

Spock laughed. He couldn't remember ever having done it, but suddenly, seeing his… his friends, so light and happy, seeing Jim so relieved, it had seemed to come naturally. The feelings had bubbled up inside him, and he floated on them. The logic was still there, but suddenly it did not weigh him down. He felt light, as though he might float away from his own body. A totally illogical thought.

And so he laughed. To his own surprise, the emotion expressed itself vocally almost without his permission. It had the unfortunate side-effect of causing Jim to playfully drag him into the (thankfully) warm bay water, but even that, once he got over his initial startlement, was acceptable.

Jim was happy. That was what mattered.

* * *

"Do you have a message for your mother?" his father asked him.

Spock thought about it. He thought about Jim, about their adventure. He thought about the pieces of his life, and how they had begun to come together again, how they were even now slipping naturally into place, reminding him of who he was, and of his purpose.

Jim.

"Yes," he said. "Tell her… I feel fine."

He said his final goodbyes and turned to leave, and there was Jim, waiting for him. He smiled as they stepped into stride next to each other, no words needing to be passed between them. It felt as natural as breathing, his captain, larger than life, beside him once more.

- END -


End file.
